
Class _ J. 



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CQEmiGHT DEPOSm 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 

AND OTHER POEMS 



EDWIN ARTHUR HUNT 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 

AND OTHER POEMS 




BY 

EDWIN ARTHUR HUNT 




PRINTED BY 

THE KALAMAZOO LOOSE LEAF BINDER GO. 

OF CALIFORNIA 






Copyright. 1920 
lY Edwin Arthur Hunt 



A559405 



gr 

<4r INDEX 

JU Dedication 

^\^ Santa Barbara Days 1 

Spring Rain at Santa Barbara 2 

i'j The Source 3 

^- Cold Springs Brook 4 

,,, Santa Barbara Springtime 5 

Spring 6 

The Tree 7 

The Sea Is Calling 8 

Aurora 9-10 

A Day 11 

The Evening 12 

Evening 13 

Night's Voice 14 

Sunset Sea 15 

Outward Bound 16 

The Channel Islands 17 

The Poppy 18 

Roses 19 

A California Garden 20 

Come to Me 21 

Song 22 

Farewell to Thee 23 

The Elf's Day 24-25-26 

Beauty's Sorrow 27-28 

I Am the Wind 29 

A Picture 30 

The Misty Clouds 31 

I Dreamed a Dream 32-33 

Lost Youth 34 

And Thou Art Mine 35 

The Hills at Ojai 36 

Matilija Stream 37 

At Rest 38 

Alchemy 39 

Fall Moon 40-41 

Sunland 42 

Moon Madness 43-44 

Night Magic 45 

We Shall Not Pass 46 

Sailor Men ; 47 

Duality 48 

Sing to Me, Love 49 

When Falls the Night 50 

Recompense 51 

. Reincarnation 52 

I Can Understand 53-54 

Gone Art Thou, Beloved 55 

Life 56-57 

L'Envoi 58-59 



DEDICATION 

I see a bay 

With waters lapping, 

Dancing, splashing 

On the glistening sands. 

I feel the magic wind 

From islands to the south 

Which whisper low, strange tales 

Of other climes and other lands. 

I hear a low sung choral 

Borne by falling wave 

And winging gull 

And oak and palm. 

The pulse of this creation, 

Beating through my soul. 

Renews my tired spirit 

With the freshness of the dawn. 

Edwin Arthur Hunt. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 

The morning leaps above the Rincon, 

Scintillating in a silver haze ; 
Flies across the breadth of jeweled ocean 

And ushers in another day of days. 

The gentle zephyrs of each perfect day 

Softly touch the rosebuds and the marigolds, 

And wander on across the mountain way 

Where ancient gods hide 'neath their magic folds. 

They herd the fleecy flocks that dot the blue, 
Content to graze on high in warmth and peace. 

Confirmed in majesty by me and you 

Who know these perfect days can never cease. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



SPRING RAIN AT SANTA BARBARA 

The earth is full of rain, 
And still more rain is falling. 
Mission Creek roars 
Wide and muddy o'er the rocks 
To color the sea earth brown. 
The water tinkles off the eaves 
Upon the ground. The heavens 
Are full of anguish and wish 
To cleanse this bitter earth 
With tears. A yellow glow 
Edges the roofs in darkness. 
Somewhere the murmur 
Of voices ; somewhere 
The twitter of birds. 

Out of the window far away 

The ocean lies aslumbering 

Till it meets the sky. 

The clouds are driving pell-mell, 

Like furious, frustrate ladies, 

Upon the mountain peaks, 

Withdrawing from one ridge 

To reveal another beyond. 

The hills are brushed with green. 

The slopes dotted with red roofs. 

Look to be sliding down 

The velvet slope to the ocean. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE SOURCE 

Mountains, rearing haughty heads 
To the proud blue sky, 
Slip down to bathe in languid sea, 
Struggle o'er their own crags 
To peer at the singing brook. 
The orchestrated stream. 
Which surges onward home 
In the melody of its own going. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



COLD SPRINGS BROOK 

I am the liquid song 
Of many birds, 
The rainbow, and the sky. 
I carry all the wrong 
And wash it in the sea. 

I curl around the stones 
And hear their words. 
Then linger near their hearts, 
And dash away again for fear 
That I will turn to stone. 

I am more than living water. 
I am springtime and the fall. 
I chase away the seasons. 
Then I cry to see them go, 
And I shout my fond goodbye. 

I am strength within the oak, 
And faith to living men. 
I am beauty to the wild rose, 
And love to springing grass. 
I am life who leapeth past. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SANTA BARBARA SPRINGTIME 

Freezias and hyacinths, fragrant with love; 
White clouds flying in silence above; 
Green grass spreading over the hill ; 
Mocking birds singing their strangest rill. 

Moonbeam and sunlight calling to me; 
One in the shadows, the other in glee; 
Brooks in their fullness and glory of life ; 
Waves in their madness and earth-tearing strife. 

Brown leaves bursting their winter shell; 
All earth clamoring its glory to tell ; 
Bright eyes are telling of hearts light and gay; 
Red lips are singing their love songs today. 



SANTA BAPwBARA DAYS 



SPRING 

The symphony of spring is playing 

By the orchestra of God, 
And all the birds are singing, 

And flowers lifting from the sod. 

The harmonies are sweet and pure, 
The trills are rippling rills 

Of winding brooks secure 

In the mountains and the hills. 

The color scheme is rich and deep 
With shades of brown and green ; 

And splashed upon the hillside steep 
Are gold and purple seen. 

The iridescent sunlight plays 
On the hidden drops of dew 

In early morn of the joyous days, 
And lets them flash for you. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE TREE 

I fell upon this giant stone 

Many years gone by, 
And falling there, felt alone 

Some earth on which to die. 

But as my life had nearly fled 

A tiny drop of water fell 
Sweet smelling on my head, 

And bade me burst my shell. 

I thrust my tiny fingers through 
The soil on which I rested, 

But granite stopped my life then, too, 
And vain had I resisted. 

Once again a raindrop came 

And courage gave to me ; 
He kissed the stone ; his the blame 

That I could grow more deeply. 

Years slipped by as silently 
I fought that stone for life, 

Until I found myself a tree 
And split the stone in strife. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



THE SEA IS CALLING 

Through the low hanging pines on the bluff, 
To the deep swelling sea o'er the sound, 
Where the low flying gulls seek the fish 
That swim lazily far out to the west, 

There's a breath in the breeze that is blowing. 
Like a scent from the island of Pan, 
With a tang of free flying billows 
That whistle and sing and are glad. 

There's a promise of romance 

In the questing, restless sea 

That is drawing, and singing and calling 

To me; a-calling forever to me. 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AURORA 

The laughing wings of morning dip 
Their crimson feathers in the sea, 
Then spread them o'er the earth, 
In a joyous minstrelsy 
Of song. 

They brush the tired ramparts 
Of the ebony divine, 
And hang the garlands of the stars 
About the pillars of the day 
In song. 

They fill the cavernous dome. 
Wherein the breathing dark 
Has lain, with brilliant rapture, 
Enrich the earth, reveal the sun 
In song. 

While yet the heavy, working eyes 
Are throbbing in the ache of sleep 
They gently rise agleam in heaven. 
Subdue the lights of martyred gods 
Not long — 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



For soon their pinions tire, 
Freighted by the weight of doom, 
And e'er they mount the cross, 
Or touch the sword Orion swung 
So long 

They purple in their anguished flight 
To know that once again 
The futile winging of the sky 
Has failed to fill all men 
With song. 



10 



AND OTHER POEMS 



A DAY 



The rose of morn breaks o'er the earth, 

A restful benediction, 

Diffused upon the mountain slope, 

Reflected on the sea, 

Enchanting mistress of the jeweled sky. 

Oh dawn of revelry ! 

Garlanded in purple hue. 

Entrained with mists of dew. 

I see thee sweep the vaulted blue 

With gesture of regal grace, 

And glance aloft with ruby eye 

Athirst for worlds unconquered lie. 

Thy breath like the sweet sigh 

Of love in fond embrace, 

Enraptures wak'ning man. 

And like the ray of diamonds white 

Upon the whirling earth you flash, 

Bedecking seas in emeralds. 

And clouds in chains of gold. 

From out the holes of moistened ground, 

The caves of rock bound glen, 

The shivered tree on craggy knoll. 

Or the huts of man, they stream 

To do thy bidding, chaste and pure. 

Goddess of the Day, secure 

In thy temple of the night to fare 

When life shall tire of its play. 



11 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



THE EVENING 

Softly down the tide the day is drifting; 
Softly o'er the earth the veil is lifting 
On the face of night. 

Softly o'er the water languor steals, 
Slowly o'er the land sweet evening feels 
For the hand of light. 

Singing pastorals of calmest moods, 
Sighing requiems of oaken woods. 
Evening flies on. 

Flies onward in the wake of time, 
Folds over thee fond wings of mine. 
Brings peace, and flies on. 



12 



AND OTHER POEMS 



EVENING 

I dwell where the shadows creep athwart 
The low flying branches of the oak, 
And the rustle of her green-gray gown 
Makes music when the sun goes down. 

I steal upon those outstretched arms, 
And watch the shadows close around me. 
Then I lie my head upon her breast 
And dream of God and call Him blest. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



NIGHT'S VOICE 

The burning heat of summer day 
Has traced its way across the earth, 

And home at eve to love and play 

I come, well knowing whence thy mirth. 

The rose-tinted clouds hover close 
Above the purple mountain peaks, 

And then turn gray as night grows 
Lovingly athwart the sky and speaks. 

The night speaks with the voice of song, 
The melody of stars and dew ; 

Night brings me hope and lingers long 
In my memory of you. 



14 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SUNSET SEA 



The sea, sister of the silent sky, 

Lies adreaming, tossing with a rhythmic pulse. 

Rising, falling, world without end ; 

Smooth as the highest sky. 

Blue as her soft blue eye. 

Quiet, quiet, rise and die, 

Sunset sea and morning sea. 

Mirage of land upon thy heaving breast. 

Encircled round, north, south and west. 

Wave follows wave with glassy glide. 

Golden bands, then darker blue. 

Rosy lips thrust to the sky 

That bends aloft in contemplation 

Yet refusing thy caress. 

The sun goes down reluctantly 

Behind the silent guardian 

Ranges of the west that hold 

Forever, and forever thy form embraced. 

They blush for fear that he will rise 

No more upon thy languid breast. 

They blush, then slowly melt 

Into lavender and as night creeps on 

They draw the purple curtain of repose. 

Thou, oh Goddess of the world, 

Soft caressing shores voluptuously. 

Sigh to have the peaks no more, 

Then laugh thy fickle laugh agam 

As the east wind moves his lover's hand 

Ecstatically across thy smooth brow. 



15 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



OUTWARD BOUND 

Outward bound and the day is calm. 
The waters sleep upon earth's palm 

Outstretched to feel the sun. 
Our sails are full of the living air, 
And the fishes speed beneath our keel, 

Where the deepened shadows run. 

We leave the Santa Barbara coast, 
An opal dream, a purple haze 

tlpon the southern sea. 
And sail away to distant lands and seas. 
But e'er we leave this elfin land, 

Look back in hope to thee. 



16 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE CHANNEL ISLANDS 

Thy low-flung pennons resting, 
Stretched between the sea and sky ; 

Purple shades when night is falling, 
A hint of earth gone drifting by. 

When the sun is hanging low 
Beyond thy portals in the west, 

Nightwinds o'er the waters blow 
Golden beams to soothe thy rest. 



17 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



THE POPPY 

Upon the hillsides, wet with dew, 

Where the morning and the night winds meet ; 
Upon the slopes that lead to you 

Are paths that alwaj^s will be sweet. 

Upon the airtide, fresh with song, 

WTiere the fragrance of the field is hung ; 

Upon the sun's bright flight along 
The hillside, cups of gold are flung. 



18 



AND OTHER POEMS 



ROSES 

Red rose of morning, 
Be jeweled with dew, 

Fragrant and brimming 
With incense for you. 

Gold Rose of Ophir, 
So subtly you smile. 

So loving and tender, 
I feel you beguile. 

White rose of evening. 
Thy soul is a dream, 

A solace in grieving 
When stars are agleam. 

Earth hath its burden. 
And man hath his pain, 

But I have my garden 
Of roses again. 



19 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



A CALIFORNIA GARDEN 

When the sun is high, 

And the shadows small, 
And the vibrant sky 

A pale blue wall, 

Our yard is filled with gold. 

When the night is nigh 

And the shadows grow, 
And the dark blue sky 

A rosy glow 

Our yard is purple and gold. 

When the dusk is by. 

And the flowers fade 
With the fading sky 

I hold each shade 

A dream in red and blue and gold. 



20 



AND OTHER POEMS 



COME TO ME 

Ah, come to me. 

Ah, come to me. 
The breath of spring is sighing 
Through the leaves and crying — 

Come to me. 

Ah, come to me. 
Ah, come to me. 

The sea is wailing on the shore ; 

The clouds are wailing evermore- 
Come to me. 

Love, come to me. 

Ah, come to me. 
Life is passing on the wings of day, 
Calling, calling as it steals away. 

Come to me. 

Come to me. 



21 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



SONG 



He: 



Were all the world a paradise, 
And thou, my love, were flown ; 

Were all the stars to greet mine eyes 
And thine were cold or gone. 
This earth would be forlorn. 

Together: 

We meet to smile, to kiss, to love, 
Our hearts are made as one. 

A fairy led us to this grove. 
And left us with the sun. 

She danced before so merrily, 

She beckoned on so cheerily. 

She fled away so eerily. 
And left us with the sun. 

She: 

I come alone, my heart afraid. 
Like the rosebud in the night. 

And deep within this sylvan shade 
I find thy face the light 

That brings to me the morn. 



22 



AND OTHER POEMS 



FAREWELL TO THEE 

Farewell to thee ! Farewell to thee ! 
The evening steals o'er land and sea, 
With murmuring soft sighs sweetly- 
Farewell to thee ! 

Farewell to thee! Farewell to thee! 
Thy melody falls upon my heart 
With wondering why we drift apart; 
Farewell to thee ! 

Farewell to thee! Farewell to thee! 
Thy pray'r for me like an angel's wmg, 
Bade me awake from my dreaming, 
Farewell to thee ! 



23 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



THE ELFS' DAY 

The Dawn 

Two little elfs were born one day 
Under a leaf in the woods. 

A beggar man was passing by, 

With saddened face and darkened eye. 

He laid him down upon the sod; 

They closed his eyes and watched him nod. 

He wandered on when morning came; 
His eyes were bright, his heart aflame. 



24 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Noontide 

One little elf had mended his heart, 

The other had woven a web of illusion, 

So the beggar man thought earth's fair profusion 

Was created only for him. 

They led him astray down a village street. 
His step was jaunty and proud. 
And a maiden, sweet as the fairest flower. 
Caught his eye and held him. 



25 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



Evening 

The two little elfs, quite malicious you see, 
Tied a strand of gold-beam around them, 
Then beckoned them on past a large oak tree, 
Atelling their hearts of glory to be. 
The beggar man held in the maze of his dreams, 
Kissed the fair maiden most sweetly, it seems. 

Then — ^the beggar man woke with a start in the night, 
And the little elfs cried — and cried — and died. 



26 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BEAUTY'S SORROW 

The song that lingers in the weary heart, 
Likt a fragrant wisp of hyacinth, 
Must know that when the soul is flown 
The memory is dead. 

The hurt that sears the inner vision, 
Until a blackened crisp is left, 
Blots out the trembling beauty 
Which dreamed of being seen. 

Out upon the hillsides, poppies flower, 
Until the waves of brilliant color 
Bewitch the eye and beckon him 
Who sees beauty — dying. 

And living on, unaware of thy sweet 
Abiding presence, rise the ugly commonplace 
Of men, made of Gold and Iron — 
Rise above thy tomb. 



27 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



The painter clasps thy form a moment, 
And in quick response you give him power 
To create, but — thy soul is vanished 
E'er he transposes thee. 

Unattainable by poet heart, 
Unknowable in manner part. 
Yet lingereth eternal out of reach 
Of men who need thee. 

Only those who dream may see thee. 
Only those who touch thy outer garment 
With the chaste kiss of dreams 
May ever know thee. 



28 



AND OTHER POEMS 



I AM THE WIND 

I am the wind that roareth so 
The doors and windows shake ; 

I live alone and where I go 
Man trembles while I take. 

I seize the breast of the sea, 
And the ridge of the land, 

Until she laughs and dances for me, 
And it flies like sifted sand. 

When the warm night lingers 
And the starlight glimmers high, 

I drive my frosted couriers 
Down from the north to die. 

Earth trembles when I breathe. 
Worlds obey my vain commands, 

Man tries my sword to sheathe, 
I laugh; his walls are paper bands. 

Where I live, there lives the free, 
Where I go there goes illusion. 

When I die, then dies eternity 
For I am master of confusion. 



29 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



A PICTURE 

The clouds of silver gray 
Change to old rose and gold 

At the close of day, 
And night grows cold. 

The distant mountains turn 
From purple to misty gray ; 

While lower clouds burn, 
The sun sinks away. 

Now the clouds grow darker ; 

The sky is deep o'ercast; 
Silver tints break through the dark- 

A star shines out at last. 



30 



AND OTHER POEMS 



THE MISTY CLOUDS 

The misty clouds drift cross the blue, 
Blown by the western breeze; 

The golden moon floats over, too. 
And silvers sighing trees. 

The singing birds have gone to nest, 
'Neath leafy boughs or bush. 

And I must go to sleep and rest ; 
Soothed by the evening hush. 

But as I glide away to dream, 

I send this word to you ; 
The fairies know just what I mean, 

And you will know it, too. 



31 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



I DREAMED A DREAM 

Last night I dreamed a dream so fair, 
Last night I dreamed a dream. 

I thought I lived long years ago 
Upon a silver stream. 

A cottage stood so small and rare, 

A cottage stood so small. 
The palm trees closed the sight from view, 

The cottage, vines and all. 

Deep gardens 'round a shady pool, 

Deep gardens 'round a pool, 
Where water lilies sv/eetly grew 

So white and green and cool. 

No windows gleamed nor opened wide, 

No windows gleamed at all, 
But latticed doors swung to and fro 

Upon the leafy wall. 

I saw a sv/an, a graceful swan, 

I saw a stately swan 
Drift along the pool's green shore 

He rested so softly on. 



32 



AND OTHER POEMS 



Sweet music filled the languid air, 

Sweet music thrilling me 
From many birds of varied hue 

Aloft in ev'ry tree. 

But blending with the choral song, 

Like a slow refrain. 
Came melodiously your voice 

From one I could not name. 

I stepped behind a lilac bush 

To see the elfin sprite — 
A merry laugh, I looked — 'twas you 

Of whom I dreamed last night. 

Last night I dreamed a dream of you, 
Last night I dreamed a dream; 

You and I lived long years ago 
Upon that silver stream. 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



LOST YOUTH 

Oh, for the days when the world was young, 
And the stars and the birds and the moon 

Were bright with the joy that had not sung 
To a head bowed low too soon. 

Oh, for the days when thy face was fair 
With the hope of love in thy eyes. 

And thy radiant lips as rare 
As the sunset red in the skies. 

Oh, for the thought that leaps to heav'n, 
That flashes the soul's fairest word. 

That brightened the void at even 
When you sang to me like a bird. 



34 



AND OTHER POEMS 



AND THOU ART MINE 

Wish me well for all the earth is mine ; 

Hope that I may live a thousand years ; 
Smile with me with all that love of thine; 

Sing with me and let there be no tears. 

Wish me well for all the world is young; 

Bless me then with all that grace of thine ; 
Kiss me, love, and let our song be sung ; 

The world is young, love, and thou art mine. 



35 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



THE HILLS AT OJAI 

Over the hills at Ojai 
Walked we to the town; 

Passed the hills of Ojai, 
We then wandered down. 

Over all the mountains bare, 
And over all the vales. 

The clouds had gathered there 
To hide the Ojai dales. 

Singing loud and swinging free. 

O'er the hills of Ojai ; 
We were gay and we were three 

On the hills of Ojai. 

There was you and there was I, 
There was jolly laughter, 

Over the hills of Ojai 
Trailing us soon after. 

Over the hills at Ojai 
Walked we, oh, so fast 

To catch the soul of Ojai 
Revealed to us at last. 



36 



AND OTHER POEMS 



MATILIJA STREAM 

Singing and dancing and leaping, 
It ripples and glides to the sea; 

It laughs at the slow creeping 
Shadows of night in ecstasy. 

It mirrors the silver of leaves, 

Shimmering and rustling at dawn ; 

The gold of the sunset receives 

Magic reflection e'er night is drawn. 

It catches the long slanting rays 
Of the sun fast dipping to rest ; 

And elfishly caressingly plays 

New color notes for those who are blest. 

When darkness has closed o'er the vale. 
And quiet reigns mystic and deep, 

I can hear that stream in the dale 

Gurgle love songs that lull me to sleep. 



37 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



AT REST 

The clouds hung low, Rose of Ophir tinted ; 

Like gold of old swung the crescent moon ; 

The sea beat a low murmuring croon 
And our campfire opals fast v/ere minted. 

The wind rustled through the dripping leaves, 
Melodies of souls long laid to rest. 
Who sought impression on our heart's imprest 

With the unreality of verities. 

Far away upon the rim of nothingness 
Gleamed the yellow eyes of ships asail ; 
Beckoning to us in our travail 

To embrace the sea's forgetfulness. 

Night crept closer round our rendezvous, 
Whispers of the world articulate 
At last, sought our realm to compensate 

Our loneliness better than they knew. 



38 



AND OTHER POEMS 



ALCHEMY 

On the long, gray slopes, 

We saw the mist 
Sliding down on ropes 

That elves had twist. 

In their long, gray shrouds 

We saw them go. 
Riding on the clouds 

Who loved them so. 

In their long, gray fold 
The elves had found 

Secret place where gold 
Went round and round. 



39 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



FALL MOON 

The sycamores were mute. 

The hoot owl screached his hoot. 
A cricket played his tiny lute 

Beneath some warm, grassy root. 

The sycamores w^ere still. 

The mountains and the hill 
Were black as black could be until 

I felt the night winds' strange thrill. 

The sycamores shuddered, 

And their leaves were fluttered 

By this cold wind that muttered 

Strange words the earth had uttered. 

The sycamores listened 

While he roughly hastened, 
And then the dark sky glistened 
Like silver that is chastened. 



40 



AND OTHER POEMS 



The sycamores and I 

Knew what the wind did try 
To tell about the fickle sky. 

Its lover moon had come nigh. 

The sycamores were bright. 

The hoot owl fled from such light. 
The cricket chirped with all his might, 

And old world was gold dedight. 

So it \vas the magic moon 
Sent his messenger the loon 

To coax the wind to blow so soon 

Words that were not meant for noon. 



41 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



SUNLAND 

On the slopes of Sunland 
Looking towards the West 

When the sun drops downward 
O'er San Fernando's crest. 

In the foreground, warmly, 
Yellow and brown and red. 

Sage brush and greasewood grow. 
The vale is green instead. 

Eucalyptus trees are rich. 
Stately in their dignity; 

Luxuriant and glorious. 
They lift above the valley. 

Through a vista shows the wash, 
White or scintillate in gold. 

And the distance swims in blue. 
Ah, that is Sunland of old. 



42 



AND OTHER POEMS 



MOON MADNESS 

We were mad with moonlight, 
And mad as harlequins. 

We were filled with moonlight 
Till we were harlequins; 

Till we could feel the earth 
Swinging off through space, 

And all the myriad mirth 
Of stars that gave us race. 

The hay became a moonboat 

Upon a silent tide. 
And ev'ry time a star mote 

Flashed out from us aside 

It showed a path of silver, 
Upon the sky vault floor. 

We waved good-bye the Dipper 
Who spilled the Stardust o'er. 

The marble breasted ladies 
Who stood upon the hills 

Smiled down upon we crazies 
With eyes that gave us chills. 



43 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



We laughed and joked like madmen 
To gain their silent praise. 

But we were only moonmen 
Adrift on stolen rays. 

We heard some mystic whispers, 
And answered with loud shout 

That frightened those sweet lispers. 
They v/ould not stay about. 

And then their angry silence 
Sent us to sleep with fear. 

They made us weep with incense. 
They drew those ladies near. 

We were mad with moonlight 
And fooled like harlequin. 

But the ladies knew quite right 
That w^e were — cherubin. 



44 



AND OTHER POEMS 



NIGHT MAGIC 

Out upon the ground, with faces to the sky ; 
Far away the stars that peer at us and die. 

Suddenly the moon becames a ball of gold, 
And quells the night with gladness as of old. 

Close above our heads the oaks begin to talk. 
And upon the mountains, gnomes begin to walk. 

Far away the cadence of dripping water sings, 
And our souls go softly, upon their silver wings. 



45 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



WE SHALL NOT PASS 

We shall not pass this way again. 

Lets see 

If we 
Can remember every refrain 

That they 

Did play? 

You remember what the blue jays 

Flying, 

Crying, 
Sang at us in their queer ways, 

And I 

Will try 

To remember what the squirrels 

In their 

Mid-air 
Flight from limb to swaying limb hurls 

At me 

To be. 

Not again shall we pass by this 

Fair place 

Or face 
Such beauty or such sylvan bliss. 

We'll sing 

And sing. 



46 



AND OTHER POEMS 



SAILOR MEN 

We sail our boats to far Cathay, 

To Hindustan, to Mandalay; 

And every spot the old earth knows 

We sail our boats where the wind blows. 

We load them down with cloves and tea ; 
I'll ship to you, you ship to me. 
Wine and sugar and lead and zinc. 
And other names which make me blink. 

Down below the hot equator 
Niggers chase our worn old freighter. 
But we give him shot and shell. 
Sink him down so he can't yell. 

The Indians hide in their canoe. 
And chase around to frighten you. 
Just sail your ship and I'll sail mine. 
We're Yankee skippers of forty-nine. 



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SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



DUALITY 

In the moonbeam's dream 
And the sunbeam's gleam 
There is life for you and me. 

In the raindrop's call 
And the snowdrop's fall 

Lies our love's sweet destiny. 

In a blue sky's gaze 
And a dark cloud's haze, 

We strive and that is living. 

On a rose bud's stem 
Or the thorn on them 

We cling and still are loving. 



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AND OTHER POEMS 



SING TO ME, LOVE 

Sing to me, love, in the evening, 
When the rain is falling outside. 

For then I know in thy singing, 
The sweet note I knew as a bride. 

Like lovers, dear, on the bough. 

Wing to wing, cooing softly and sweet. 
To the mate that cannot know how. 
He echoes her heart-song complete. 



49 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



WHEN FALLS THE NIGHT 

Together, when the sun is gone, 

Up the shining highway to the hill 

Where the fields are the bond 

That welds the mountains to the sea- 

Up the highway, leisurely, 
Listing to the roadside songs. 
Lingering to catch a murmur 
Of some far-off childish voice. 
Rejoicing in the silence of the eve 
That brings so much of joy 
We may only smile and breathe. 
The mountains purple in the wane 
Of day, but for the utmost peak 
Where the sun puts a spot of gold. 
The eucalyptus trees stand sentinel 
Against the orange sky. The pines 
Are dim and cool in rough hospitality. 
What matters it that we are poor? 
In the enfolding bounty, riches 
Of all time are ours. No gold 
Gives more delight than the tresses 
Of the vibrant sky. We return, 
Enraptured by the love that both 
Revealed upon the hill last night. 



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AND OTHER POEMS 



RECOMPENSE 

An acorn dropped upon the ground, 

Where a lily grew so rare, 
The shadow of whose leaves were tound 

A refuge for the acorn there. 

An oak tree grew upon the place 

The lily once had known. 
But had the lily hid its face 

The oak tree ne'er had grown. 



51 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



REINCARNATIONS 

The day dies. The night lives 
For a few short hours — 
Then fades into day. 
The pale sky is pierced through 
By dim stars and the moon 
Rides across its path from star 
To touch the next star 
With gold. Then dies 
With the dying night. 

Beauty fades. The wan cheek 
Once blushed with the rose 
Which crumpled up and died. 
The bird that echoed her heart 
Song flew once more 
Then blessed the day no more 
With song. The grass withered 
On which her feet so softly fell. 

So wantonly life grasps 
At life that it must die. 
Yet its very strong desire 
Brings rushing back to earth 
That flitting soul from death, 
And newborn sighs to see 
Once more the old allure 
Of vanishing life. 



52 



AND OTHER POEMS 



I CAN UNDERSTAND 

I can understand. 
He sees me fail, 
He hears my laugh, 
He sees me cry. 
And then alone. 
He knows my heart. 
He knows my love 
Is groping blindly, 
And when I fall 
His arm is there 
To lift me up again. 
I can understand. 

I can understand. 
His divinity 
The more because 
Of love for thee. 
His patient care. 
His constant aid 
That patiently 
Planned eternity 
So all could strive 
Again and yet again 
For that they loved. 
I can understand. 



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SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



I can understand. 
Though you should hate 
And burn my soul 
In effigy, 

And then come back 
To me for love 
I'd pour the whole 
Stream of His love 
For me to thee 
And then rejoice 
As He has done. 
I can understand. 



54 



AND OTHER POEMS 



GONE ART THOU, BELOVED 

Gone art thou, beloved, 
Gone thy tender face, 
And silent thy sweet words. 
Flown art thou, my lover, 
Beyond this earth of ours. 
And silent is the day. 

Still I hear, beloved. 
Thy old, wise words again 
And sacred they become. 
Thro' the room which held thee 
Lonely do I ponder 
That silent is thy voice. 

Gone art thou, beloved. 

May the dawn bring thee here 

Where silent I abide. 

Bloom, oh, rose, blush once more. 

Greet the day with fragrance. 

Be silent— earth— be still. 



55 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



LIFE 

We drift along the swift current of eternity, 
On the broad bosom of its calm stream, 
Bobbing up and down, swinging to and fro. 
In and out of eddies and cool pools ; 
Basking in the sunlight as we glide; 
Held in the cold embrace of winter ice; 
Purling 'neath the boughs of new leafed trees 
That lean over us in dreamy passion 
To caress and kiss the lips of a wave upthrust. 

You and I, calm in all our multitude of dreams 
Glide on from out the far into the future. 
From out the fastness of the past 
Unto the bound and rigid waters 
Of the ocean of the ageless future. 
There we touch our hands to hearts, 
Our lips to lips and bid good-bye. 
But not forever, love, for in that sea. 
We still feel the unfathomed current 
Of our love, irresistibly drawing us, 
From out the far reaches of the infinite, 
To this delicious trysting place of now. 

And resting for the moment as we may. 
Upon the thrilling bosom of the main. 
Drawing our life from its vast love. 
We lie content and dream our dreams. 
The clouds pass over in darkling mood 
As the face of heaven frowns at our delight. 
But on we smile, dear, and see the change 
That comes in heaven, overnight. 



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AND OTHER POEMS 



As our souls are ix)ssed together, 

So together other souls are bourne, 

Until the great love-bulk of souls. 

Are joined in one indissoluble whole 

That fills the ocean, and laughs up to God, 

And He makes us other worlds to love on 

So great our love has grown and separate 

Each his life is, yet grown together. 

That one may conquer in the air 

Because the other half is anchored m the sea. 

Growing on our unselfish divination of love 
We dream of that sweet, riotous stream 
Whereon first we met, and bobbed and kissed 
Beneath the luscious branches of the willow, 
And how we clasped our arms to glide 
A-down some shining stone together 
And not be torn apart. 

This is life, dear, with all its joys; 
For sorrows are but sweets not tasted; 
Shoals of solemn, cold, delicious depths 
Wherein we see the bottom of the stream. 
And its life-giving recompense— eternity. 



57 



SANTA BARBARA DAYS 



L'ENVOI 

Beneath the flick'ring stars, 
We passed the solemn night, 
Till morning brought a mist 
That felt round the uptossed hills 
And shadowed them in gray. 

Beneath the alder trees 
Which wept warm, dripping tears 
That summertime and we 
Were leaving them together. 
In sad adieu in that calm way. 

In that calm way were these. 
Our haunted hearts reminded 
Of a year gone by; a day 
Of effort and of joyousness 
Beneath the weeping sky. 

Beneath the fervent spell 
Of your bright smiles we learned. 
As we tramped down to the sea. 
That lowly people, kindly faces 
And warm hearts were one. 



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AND OTHER POEMS 



Beneath the magic of the wind 
That wished through the sycamores 
We felt the richness of our years, 
And uttered pent-up hopes 
In prodigality. 

Beneath the weight of packs 
We felt the elves of witchery 
Turning back our lives to when 
The world was young, was strong. 
Was wonder-eyed before the dawn. 



59 



